


Transition: One

by itstonedme



Series: Beguilement Verse [7]
Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-26
Updated: 2010-06-26
Packaged: 2017-11-15 00:07:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/520950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itstonedme/pseuds/itstonedme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU, The Beguilement universe, in which Elijah is a high-priced escort in Amsterdam and Orlando a previous client. It is recommended that these stories be read in sequence in order to fully understand what follows.  Part 7 in the Beguilement universe.  First posted on LJ <a href="http://itstonedme.livejournal.com/43022.html#cutid1">here</a> with reader comments.</p>
<p>Disclaimer: A work of fiction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Transition: One

When Elijah was a boy -- before he had wanted to be an astronaut or later, a rock god adored by millions, certainly long before he wanted to be the most highly regarded male escort in a city known for its escorts -- he had wanted to be a horse. 

Around the age of seven years, every waking moment had been consumed by his love of all things equine. He would draw countless pictures, each one attempting to capture the arch of neck, fineness of ankle and hoof, curve of muscle, sweep of mane and tail. He raced across fields and city streets so that the wind grabbed his ragged hair, fancying it the silk of his mane. He pranced and cantered in the sanctuary of his back yard, tossing his head and leaping over shrubs and flower beds, never leaving so much as an imaginary hoof print on leaf or petal. 

Then one day, his parents had taken him to a stable for a half hour's pony ride. But the little Shetlands, which had always given him a spirited and bumpy outing, had all been rented out, and instead he had been placed in the saddle atop a white Welsh pony, a bigger animal than he'd ever been on before. When he glanced down past his stirruped foot so high atop the pony's barrel, the ground had been that much further beneath him, and when he sat tall and looked out, he could see much farther across the fields. Jack, as this pony had been named, could run like the wind, and so he did with Elijah on his back. In reflection, Elijah often wondered what all the adults had been thinking, to put such a young boy on such a big animal, outside of a paddock or corral, out on the fields where every path led back to Jack's oats. He had held on for his life, both terrified and exhilarated, and when the ride was over, his love of being a horse had become one of being a rider.

He would lay in bed at night, pretending to be Alexander on Bucephalus, or a conquistador clad in steel and leather, crossing the arid plains and treacherous mountain paths of Chile. And he would imagine what it must have felt like to have beneath him so much power and beauty, to be at the reins of such harnessed strength. These fantasies thrilled him. But soon, his thoughts had turned in another direction, to those of control, of being the greater power in the partnership. And a night came, as he had lain in bed thinking about even bigger, more spirited and headstrong mounts, where he imagined needing to beat them to bring them to his will, to make all the strength and glory of the animal bend to his demand. This thought was so sudden and both so attractive and repulsive that it scared Elijah, making him think things of himself that he hadn't liked or understood.

After that, his love of horses rapidly faded, and he moved on to other dreams, ones that didn't cause him so much discomfort.

He wonders why these thoughts surface now. 

*

After finding Elijah on his doorstep and taking him inside, Orlando hangs the garment bag in the hall closet without saying a word. He turns to find that Elijah hasn't moved, carry-on still in hand, staring at where the street lights paint shadows across the darkened livingroom. "Have you eaten?" he asks, and when Elijah looks at him without answering, Orlando knows that whatever course Elijah has taken to get back to this apartment, he's still stuck in it, churning, perhaps even second-guessing himself. "Here," he says, taking the piece of luggage and leaving it by the door so that Elijah might know there is an escape route, "I'll make you a bite."

"No." Elijah's finally says. He's past needing to put this bastard of a day behind him. "Really, I think I'd just like to go to turn in, try and switch off my thoughts." 

"I'll get you some towels before I shut the place down," Orlando says. "I shouldn't be long behind you." 

*

He checks his emails, firing a few late replies to the office, then powers down. Elijah is still in the loo when he shuts the hall light and walks into the bedroom, but Orlando notices that the luggage has at least made it from the front hall. He can't say if this is a good sign or a practicality, but it doesn't matter much. There is no point in interpreting the increments of Elijah's visit as anything more than what they are. Elijah just needs his personal kit, he thinks, that's all. As for the Big Picture -- the one that's out of focus and indistinct -- it continues to expand before him like the universe: fathomless, destination unknown. He turns down the bed and strips to his underwear.

"You want this?" he offers once Elijah has joined him, a clean tshirt in hand. It's his way of saying that there's no expectation of sex.

Elijah shakes his head, and Orlando pulls it on himself.

"I can't talk right now about why I'm here," Elijah says quietly, unbuckling his jeans.

"I know." It's Orlando's turn for the bathroom, and as he walks towards the door, he reaches out, taking Elijah's hand in his. "It's been a long day," he murmurs, kissing Elijah's knuckles, then his temple. "Climb into bed. Everything else can wait."

Later, after crawling into bed behind Elijah, spooning him to his chest for only the third time in their lives, Orlando asks, "When I return from work tomorrow, will I still find you here?"

He can feel the fragility that has settled over Elijah, as if Elijah were a hollow egg, the kind blown out for painting, no substance inside to give it strength. 

"I think so," Elijah replies quietly, then after a pause, with more certainty, "Yes."

Orlando pulls him closer, kissing his head. "Try and sleep," he says. "It'll still be there for you in the morning."

After a bit, Elijah whispers, "It's what I do. It's my living."

Orlando nuzzles his hair. "I know."

More minutes pass before Elijah breathes. "And I'm brilliant at it."

Orlando's heart catches because as much as he wishes it were otherwise, this is not something he can deny. "Yes," he breathes. "You are." He tightens his arms and whispers a lie. "I'm not asking you to change your life for me, Elijah. But for tonight, dearheart, let's share this bed and just let it be. Somehow, we will figure it out."

The notion that Orlando's bed might just become his safe zone suddenly overwhelms Elijah. He exhales, and for the first time in a long time, he slips towards sleep beside another man without having let his body be the price paid.


End file.
